


In Flanders Field

by EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo Card 1 [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Established Relationship, Guilt, M/M, Oh god its so soft, Prompt: Internal Bleeding, Self-Sacrifice, ambiguous ending, its also sad as hell so, obi-wan whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29124567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12/pseuds/EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12
Summary: In Flanders fields the poppies blowBetween the crosses, row on row,That mark our place; and in the skyThe larks, still bravely singing, flyScarce heard amid the guns below.(In Flanders Field, John McCrae)Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompt: Internal Bleeding with Established Codywan for Anonymous!
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo Card 1 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123604
Comments: 9
Kudos: 82





	In Flanders Field

**Author's Note:**

> oh mannnnnnnnnnnnnn this was ROUGH but also so fun to write!  
> The poem in the summary is a World War I poem and was really the inspiration for the fic: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47380/in-flanders-fields  
> You can read it at the link :) 
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy! Please R and R, let me know what you think!  
> I will respond to comments, I just tend to do it in big batches when I have a block of time :))) 
> 
> Find me and my bingo card on tumblr! Requests are always open :)

He was flying.

Weightless, boundless, free. But the ground came fast and the impact of it stole the air out of his lungs in the same instant everything became glaringly brighter as his helmet hit the ruined street with metallic thuds as it skittered away. He choked, desperate for breath, and coughed instead, sucking in only acrid smoke and the horrible, sticky heat that had permeated the air. From here, he thought he could see blaster bolts pass over his head, seeking clones or droids or bits of rubble to sink into. Beyond that, a perfectly clear sky and the pure white sun. No color in either of them. Only the brief blips of red.

Breath crawled back into his lungs at the same speed as realization did. He had been somewhere else on this battlefield, in one of the makeshift buildings they were using as a medical station. How had he gotten here?

He turned on his side, squinting against the harsh light. There was the mangled remains of a droid, inches from his fingertips, its control panel still smoking. The street he was lying on had been so rocked by the carpet bombings that even though he could see the cover of the building in front of him—what had once been a restaurant, judging by the sign—it was nothing but a shell, the busted window pane showcasing the horror that lay behind it through the ruined back of the building.

He pulled himself to his knees, testing for injury as he moved, breath still heavy and hurting. He looked up towards the street, the sounds of fighting returning slowly. Down at the end, where what had once clearly been the city center, he could see the white and yellow flashes of his men, swarming over the ground. He could see what was left of the building he had been blown out of.

It was clear that it had been hit by a bomb of some sort, poorly aimed to only blow out one of the walls and collapse half of the rest. It was enough that he could see the man carrying out the injured men on stretchers, moving them to another makeshift shelter as the Separatist brigade started to rain over them again. Had the bomb thrown him all this way? He couldn’t even remember the feeling of it hitting.

“Commander!” He registered one of the men calling for him. Boil, sprinting full tilt towards him, rifle in hand. “Commander!”

He pushed himself to his feet as Boil arrived at him, reaching to help him.

“I’m all right, soldier,” He said, though he hardly sounded it. His voice grated like gravel even to his own ears. He looked around, eyes catching on his helmet.

“We have to go back, Sir!” Boil was still yelling, even though it wasn’t needed. It confused him. He had thought that perhaps he would be injured as well, but other than a crack he could feel in his leg armor and his helmet that he stepped to pick up from the ground, he would only be bruised.

“Wh---”

“It’s the General, Sir. He’s---” Boil’s words staggered. Cody waited. Waited on him to say dead. To say missing. “He’s asking for you, Sir.” 

If Cody had flown through the air to where he had landed, weightless and light, then he felt every press of concrete on the way back, every hit of the street through his boots. The pain of it radiated along his battered body, making each bruise known even as it started to fade as adrenaline took over. He started following Boil, but overtook him quickly, knowing without asking that Obi-Wan was still in that building.

He stepped in, expecting to see him standing, perhaps helping the others as they moved the injured men out of the building.

But there was nothing. Only a panic of activity, a mess of clones who were taking orders form Helix and administering everything from bacta smears to injections even as men were being carried out. “There, Sir,” Boil had caught up to him, breathing hard, and gestured to a darkened corner in the still standing part of the building. On the remains of what had once been a kitchen table was Obi-Wan, head turned towards Cody where Cody realized he was watching him. Why hadn’t he spoken?

“Obi-Wan,” He breathed, pushing past Helix who tried to stop him with an outstretched arm.

Obi-Wan blinked up at him as he came closer, a ghost of smile crossing his lips. Even in the shadows of the building, Cody could see immediately how pale he was, the skin of his fingers seeming almost translucent as they reached for Cody’s face.

“You made it back,” He said, so quietly that Cody thought he might have imagined it. He tore his eyes from Obi-Wan’s face to look at the rest of him. Blood smeared on his leggings from a wound to his left calf, tears and burns along his clothing. He couldn’t see anything else though, nothing out of the ordinary. Until Obi-Wan pressed his fingertips finally to Cody’s skin, brushing against a smear of blood on Cody’s cheek. His tunic, already split but hard to see, fell open on either side. Pasted to his stomach was a clear plastic patch, and even as Cody saw it, it swelled a bit fuller with blood.

“Obi-Wan,” He said, and pushed back the cloth of his tunic. There, just forming over his abdomen was a deep purple bruise, oddly shaped and starting to fill with dark red around its edges, the patched pressed to its center, siphoning blood off of his organs. For now.

“You aren’t hurt,” Obi-Wan said, and Cody suddenly realized that it wasn’t clear if Obi-Wan could really hear him. “I wasn’t sure if it would work properly.”

“If what would work?” Cody asked, even as he knew the answer. It hadn’t been the bomb that had thrown him. Hadn’t been the blast or the impact or the explosion. It had been Obi-Wan, who had seen the bomb coming, who had kept him safe. What had he given up to do that? "Obi-Wan.."

He heard the break in his voice, felt the tear press at the side of his eye.

“I put in the call for a drop recovery,” Cody heard Helix. Was grateful for Helix’s words and his actions and everything else. But he also knew what they meant. Most drop recoveries were called for a Jedi and left instead with a corpse. “It’s all internal, nothing else I can do with the equipment I have.”

“I was worried you wouldn’t make it back,” Obi-Wan’s voice, so soft and so quiet was more important than Helix’s.

“I’m here,” Cody said, and reached down to curve his hand around Obi-Wan’s jaw, brushing away some of the dust and blood caught in his beard with his thumb. “You have to stay with me, now.”

Obi-Wan didn’t say anything, and Cody felt more tears as he instead gave a soft smile, his eyes becoming glassy, moving in and out of focus even as Cody did his best to hold his gaze.

“Obi-Wan,” He said, and the next breath he sucked in was a sob that he swallowed down. Obi-Wan’s eyes turned towards him, still there. Still alive. “Tell me a story.”

There was a long moment of waiting, and Cody felt a desperate plea building in his chest. The hand on his face started to slip away and he reached for it instead, holding it to his skin.

“Please,” He breathed again.

“One about us?” Obi-Wan asked, and the images came unbidden to Cody’s mind. All the places they had been together long before they were together. And the past year, after feelings strong and feelings shared had grown to the point that they were left with little choice but to tumble through these things together. For Cody, the past year had been the most brilliant of his life. Filled with color and light and sound so vibrant that they seemed tangible. So many firsts together, so many things they had spoken of in the future. A future without war, without the constant threat of separation. A thought so sweet and so close that Cody woke somedays, pressed against Obi-Wan in the cramped cot they had so often shared, and thought that they might have already come true. And now…

“Yes,” Cody said, and pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan’s palm, cold against his lips. “One about us.”

Obi-Wan didn’t say anything else for a the longest minutes of Cody’s life. Instead, he hummed softly, breath catching in his chest as it shortened under the stress of his injuries. Every blink, Cody thought his eyes would stay closed, but they stayed fixed on Cody’s instead.

“Do you remember the poppies?”

At first, the answer was no. Though Cody had asked for a story, his mind was anywhere but thinking of them himself. The reminder was enough though. He did remember the poppies, the fields full of beautiful, red flowers that swayed gently in the passing breeze.. He had never seen poppies before then, hadn’t known that they were one of the main sources of spice that plagued much of the galaxy. Then, in that moment, they had only been beautiful. And Obi-Wan was beautiful, telling Cody about them as they watched them moving gently. Beautiful as Obi-Wan had kissed him gently, fingers curling in the back of Cody's hair, a feeling that at the time had been as new as it had been exciting.

“I remember them,” Cody said, and Obi-Wan smiled up at him again.

“I’d like to go back to that planet someday,” He said, voice somehow softer than it had been only a moment before. “And back to Naboo. It’s a beautiful place.”

“I’ve never been,” Cody said, anything to keep him talking. Anything to keep that light in his eyes still glowing.

“You’d like the water there,” He said, and for the first time, Cody could see a hint of pain flit over his face. He looked down at the patch, swallowing hard as he saw it was nearly the size of his fist now. “The lake country.”

“I’m sure I would,” Cody said, “You’ll take me someday?”

“Sir, the drop recovery is here,” Helix said, interrupting the stillness surrounding them.

“Are you going with me, Cody?” Obi-Wan asked and a knife twisted in Cody’s guts. Would that be the last time he heard Obi-Wan say his name? Would this be his last memory of him? Asking Cody to stay with him?

“I have to stay here to help our men,” He said, “You’ll be back soon.”

“I know. I believe you,” Obi-Wan said, and Cody heard the clanking of boots behind him as the Air Drop team swarmed into what was left of the building.

“I love you,” Cody said, even as they pushed him away, Obi-Wan’s hands slipping from his own.

“I love you, too.”

So soft Cody thought he might not have actually heard anything. He clung to it anyway, eyes fixed on the only part of Obi-Wan he could see, his hand, limp and pale, as they lifted him away. As he turned back to Helix, to the battle at hand, the medic couldn't meet his eyes.


End file.
